


i can see that you are lonesome just like me

by wizardinblack



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Casual Sex, Dadsona has no name, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Romance, M/M, POV Second Person, References to Depression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardinblack/pseuds/wizardinblack
Summary: Sometimes you can’t tell if the sting of loneliness hurts more before or after a night with him, but it’s addictive all the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which we explore an angle where you sleep with Robert on the first night and afterwards have an agreement to keep things strictly physical, because you’re both fucked up so why even fight it.
> 
> MC has no name and I aimed to keep things as vague as possible when describing them, other than referring to your late spouse with he/him pronouns and that Amanda was adopted. The only other liberties I’ve taken with the MC is making them more depressed then they probably are. Humor me.

After the third time you sleep together Robert tells you he doesn’t want anything serious.

He’s sitting in bed still, back propped up against his headboard, cigarette in his mouth, and ashtray resting against his bare stomach.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” He says. You’re already tugging your clothes back on. Pants are on and buttoned and you pull your head through the neck hole of your shirt. Your back is to him, but you can picture the way his lips curl around the cigarette, the puff of smoke that flows out his mouth as he speaks.

“Ok.” Is all you say. You didn’t really think it had to be said, but you guess you appreciate Robert’s bluntness. Both of you are too old to be anything but.

He doesn’t say anything else at first. You hear him inhale and exhale.

“Ok.” He repeats after a moment.

You get up after putting your shoes back on and look down at him. He is staring straight down at the bed covers and his cigarette is being held loosely between two fingers, he needs to ash it you think, and it drives you a little crazy watching the paper burn closer and closer to his skin and the ash growing and growing just threatening to fall and stain the sheets…

“I’m not looking for a relationship.” You say. And it’s the truth. You just met this guy, barely had one conversation with him and then fell into his bed. It’s not really like you, but...something about moving to a new place, coming to terms with the fact that your daughter is growing up and will soon no longer need you, realizing that you are alone, in the end, after all…

That and he is very attractive. You still can’t believe someone who looks like him approached you to begin with, and maybe that was part of it as well, but that’s besides the point you suppose. It has just been a while. Since your late husband, actually, and maybe Alex wouldn’t approve of you going to bed with the first person to show interest in you but...it doesn’t matter now anyway.

You haven’t allowed yourself this in so long. You haven’t even thought about sex or relationships since losing him. But with Amanda growing up and moving out, would you rather be alone or…?

You don’t know what’s worse.

It does feel nice to be wanted though, so when Robert made a pass at you it was hard to deny him. You didn’t even realize you still had it in you. You didn’t think anything about you was sexy or desirable anymore. You forgot how good sex could be.

And that’s all it is. Sex. And that’s all it needs to be.

You have other things to worry about, and it would be reckless to get into a romantic relationship. You have to focus on helping pay for Amanda to get through college. It’s not going to be easy since you are a single parent after all. There is no time for love.

Love doesn’t seem like something you can do again anyway either, not after losing him like you did.

Plus, even though Robert is hot and amazing in bed, he doesn’t really seem like boyfriend material. The house he lives in is surprisingly spacious and nice, but it’s a pigsty. Clothes, trash, empty bottles and beer cans are thrown all over the place. There’s three filled ashtrays in his bedroom alone.

But it’s not your place to ask and you don’t care anyway. 

“I’ll see you around then.” He finishes on, and finally ashes his damn cigarette.

You show yourself out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More nights with Robert. Things are different but they're also not.

When you wake up this time Robert is nowhere in sight. You’re used to him being close by...he usually is either standing over you telling you he has something to do asking you to leave, or he's rolling over in bed next to you telling you he’ll see you later, or he’s out on the balcony enjoying an after coitus cigarette, knowing that you’ll be gone when he returns.

This time though...the bed is empty and it’s dark and still in the room. Looking to your left you read the clock on the nightstand. 3:17am.

Since Robert isn’t around you figure you might as well just take the opportunity to sneak out undetected. By now you guys have enough of a routine that you know what is expected of each other. He gives you a good dicking down and then you leave him alone. You don’t talk otherwise except when necessary to make sure you both are on the same page, because you are both older and sometimes communication is needed for certain...positions that maybe would have been easier to pull off in your twenties. That and the occasional dirty talk which Robert is exceptionally good at, especially with that rough voice of his and god you wish you were in your twenties still because then you could go all night as long as he kept talking like that, but even that is rare and...that’s it. There’s nothing behind it. It’s sex and that’s it. And that’s fine with you. It is less awkward to leave without having to face him though, and maybe that is proof enough that this is something bad that should end but...you don’t want it to.

You miss physical intimacy and you didn’t realize how much you missed it until you started sleeping with him regularly. After Alex died you spent all of your time focusing on Amanda, doing nothing but working and coming home and then going back to work and rinse and repeat. There is a reason Amanda always teases you about not going out or having a social life and she’s right. Before it felt like the right thing to do. Be a good dad, focus on your daughter, nothing else matters. But now Amanda has left for college and you are alone without anyone at all and you can’t expect her to answer your every call or text. She is a smart and talented girl and she will do great things on her own. You’ve accepted that and you’re proud and happy for her but you can’t help but feel pathetic yourself. You’ve gone so long without any kind of relationship and it’s sad. Robert is a real human being who wants to see you and touch you...you begin looking forward to his late night texts telling you to come over.

The routine is nice. The contact feels human. You feel alive. Everything inside you aches and most of your body does too but...you feel alive. Part of you feels like you should feel bad for using him for sex but he is doing the same to you isn’t he? Sometimes you feel dirty, and maybe you are, and sometimes you can’t tell if the sting of loneliness hurts more before or after a night with him, but it’s addictive all the same.

When you step out into his living room, trying to quietly sneak out, you are greeted with a dim blue flicker of light. The television is on and Robert is sitting on the couch, legs stretched out wide and a piece of pizza in his hand. His eyes are staring intently at the TV and his mouth is full as he chews slowly.

You pause for a moment before continuing to walk past, planning to just head right for the door. He glances at you briefly, offering a tiny nod, and that’s when you see the half full pizza box on the coffee table.

“Pineapple.” You mumble. “Good choice.”

He regards you for a moment before letting out a gruff, “It’s the only choice.”

“Wish more people had that mentality. Had to cut ties with a couple good friends over whether or not they liked pineapple on pizza.” You joke lightly.

“Not friends worth having.” He says, and cocks his head forward a bit, motioning towards the box and gesturing vaguely as he takes another bite himself.

“Um.” You realize he is offering you a slice. “Yeah, the grease could do me good right about now I guess. Thanks.”

You bend over and grab a slice from the box, and that’s when you recognize the image being projected on the screen. Looking at the TV you smile.

“Hey,  _ The Thing _ . Great movie.” You don’t want to make it anymore awkward than it needs to be but you can’t help yourself. “You know, Kurt Russell was my sexual awakening.”

You watch Robert pause mid-chew, and he looks at you with a blank quizzical stare, as if watching  _ Big Trouble in Little China _ everyday for a whole week straight when you were 13 until your mother confiscated it from you wasn’t a totally normal thing for a teenager to experience.

When the conversation (if you could call it that) seems to die there you figure that’s that and start to leave when Robert wordlessly moves to push the mound of clothes and trash lying next to him to free up a spot on the couch.

With a grunt he jerks his head again, offering you to sit.

You and Robert don’t ‘hang out’ when you’re with each other so you’re not sure how to feel about the invitation, but then again are you really going to pass up the opportunity to watch one of the greatest movies of all time? No, you aren’t, so you sit your ass down. Betsy, who usually stays locked out of Robert’s room when you spend the night so you rarely see her, runs up from out of nowhere and sits at your feet, eager to have a new person to beg for food from.

You both sit quietly and eat your pizza while watching the scene where Kurt Russell lights Bennings on fire until finally Robert breaks the silence.

“I’ve always been partial to Snake Plissken myself.” He says almost absentmindedly as he leans over you to hand feed Betsy his crust.

“Oh for sure!” You gush around a mouthful, feeling a little looser talking about something you enjoy. You don’t know much about movies but the ones you do know are all corny 80s films that star hot guys. “The eye patch, the thievery, the general disregard and disrespect for the American government...he’s a dreamboat.”

He barks out a laugh, and it’s such a new sound to you that it actually makes you jump.

It’s...weird. You think this is the first time you’ve actually sat and talked with Robert. Not counting the first night you met at the bar. It feels...nice, and easy, just relaxing like this. You didn’t really think you two would have anything in common.

“What about  _ Overboard _ ?” You venture, not wanting the moment to end. Another movie your mother confiscated from you. 

He gives you a massive side-eye, but it’s playful.

“Ah come on! It’s a good one!”

“He tricks that poor woman into sleeping with him. It’s supposed to be a love story. How is that romantic?” He almost sounds offended.

You suppose he’s right technically. “Yeah, but...he’s hot.”

He smiles as he reaches for another slice. “So your moral compass shifts depending on how hot someone is?”

You shove the rest of your slice into your mouth, mumbling with a hefty eye roll, “my moral compass broke years ago, clearly.” 

After you say it you realize it could be taken the wrong way, and freeze up for a split second, but then Robert lets out another bark of a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

You stay and watch the rest of the movie, mostly in silence. Robert doesn’t offer any comments and neither do you, content to just sit and enjoy an old classic favorite of yours. The only interruption is when Betsy decides to jump up on the couch and make herself comfortable, with half her body covering your lap. You look to Robert briefly, but all he does is reach a hand over and pat her head, not even breaking eye contact with the screen. Once his hand leaves you replace it with your own and pet her til the movie is over. 

By the time the credits roll it’s daylight out and you’re exhausted. Betsy is fast asleep in your lap and you’re trying to find the best way to go about standing up without waking her. Robert doesn’t move at all, and for a second you think he may have fallen asleep, but when you look to him he is still staring intently at the screen, simply watching the list of names fly across the TV.

You stay still and watch with him, not really thinking much of it, but mostly just thinking of how to not wake up the dog. 

After the credits are finished Robert gets up with a stretch, then leans over you, almost startling you until you realize he is simply reaching for Betsy, and he plucks her out of your lap. She squirms a bit in his arms.

“Alright, see ya around…” He offers curtly, making his way back into his bedroom.

“Later.” You mumble, wiping your hands on your thighs and finally standing. You leave and head home.

* * *

 

 

It’s already past 1am and you were just about to try and get some sleep when a series of texts light up your phone.

You stare at them and think for a moment, thumbs hovering over the keys deciding how to respond to Robert’s late night invite.

You try to weigh the pros and cons. It’s later than he usually bothers texting you and you’ve already changed into your pajamas...but are you really going to sleep? Recently sleep hasn’t been coming easy to you, so it’s either lay in bed restless tossing around or...toss around in Robert’s bed. At least that way he’d probably tire you out enough that you’d actually get some shut eye afterwards.

_ ‘Coming’ _ you answer and hop out of bed.

You show up at Robert’s in a change of clothes and let yourself in, by now you know he leaves the door unlocked when he’s expecting you, and briefly pat Betsy before heading into the living room.

You don’t expect to find Robert sitting on his couch, as usually he just waits in his bedroom, but there he is and there is a bottle of opened whiskey on the coffee table and a shot glass.

“Hey.” He says simply.

“Hey.” You answer, standing still besides the couch, waiting.

“C’mon.” He mumbles as he pours a shot, and you know he’s asking you to sit even without him looking up at you.

You’re not sure exactly what to say. Dumbly, you ask, “what’s up?” 

He turns to you to hand you the tiny glass and as he does his leather jacket makes a noise of crinkling with his movements. You don’t know why he’s sitting in his house wearing his jacket. Did he just get home? Was he out? You never really thought about it before but you aren’t even sure what he does during the day, not that it’s daytime now but whatever, it’s just odd. You wonder what he could have been up to.

“Catch up.” Is all he says.

You take the shot and regard it in your hand for a moment, realizing that Robert must have been out drinking, and even though you think it’s a little late to start drinking yourself, you down it anyway.

It burns, but right in the way that you want your whiskey to, and it wakes you the fuck up.

“Good boy.” Robert says with a grip around the neck of the bottle. He brings it to his lips and takes a big swig. You blush and stare at his throat as he swallows.

It makes you wonder how often Robert is drunk on your nights together. The first time, obviously, but after that...he always hits you up so late that you certainly weren’t out doing anything yourself and were coming over sober. Does he know that? Does he know you aren’t drunk when you’re with him. Is it bad if you aren’t and he is?

He always smells like whiskey, but he also smells like cigarettes and leather and it seems like it’s a piece of him embedded into his skin…you never thought much of it til now.

Are you a bad person?

You hold out your glass and he refills it. He’s leaning in close to you now and he watches as you throw the amber liquid down your throat.

He’s...so sexy staring at you the way he is. Close and intrusive. His one arm is resting on the back of the couch behind you and his body is turned towards you, half leaning over you, his other hand is holding the bottle of whiskey between his widespread legs. His eyes lock with yours and they have a glint to them like he’s daring you to make the first move. You can feel his breath on your face. You want to kiss him but something is stopping you. 

Instead, without loosing his eyes, you pull the bottle from his grasp and start chugging.

He huffs out a tiny laugh, one that almost sounds...fond, and lays back, lazily reclining into the couch and leaning into your side. 

You both pass the bottle back and forth while watching some movie he’s put on. You don’t recognize it but it looks like it is set in the 50s or something. The opening scene shows a young man hopping on a motorcycle and riding down a long stretch of a bare road. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and his hair is slicked back with grease. You smile to yourself thinking  _ yeah, Robert would like this movie. _

“Cool...bikes…” You say stupidly. Motorcycles were never really your thing. They scare you too much.

Robert leans forward and grabs his pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. With cig in mouth Robert cups his hands around the end and lights it. He takes a deep drag before speaking.

“Had a bike once.”

“Really?” You say, pretending to be surprised. “Not anymore though?”

He leans back again, replacing his arm back behind you.

“Got in an accident. Driving cross country. It was late and had just finished raining. I’ll never forget how empty that road was...wasn’t nobody else on it but me and I just flew. Kept pushing it, seeing how fast and far I could go. I should've known not to drive like that on a slick road, but I didn’t think, just kept going, kept pushing. Next thing I know something jumps out in front of me. I didn’t even see what it was before I was swerving. Whether it was a deer or a fox or…” You watch his face as he speaks and his eyes are unfocused looking straight ahead as if he’s seeing it all happening before him again. “Something else. I don’t know. All I know is I lost control of the bike and ended up getting flipped over the front of it.”

“Oh my god, Robert.”

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Handlebars went right into my crotch. Docs had to surgically remove them.”

You’re so entranced by the story it takes you a minute to catch up. “Wait...what? Really?”

“Yup. Metal embedded right into my dick.” He drops a hand to the front of his pants and then looks over at you with a smile. “You mean you didn’t notice?”

Your eyes go from his face to his dick to back up to his face. You try to remember if you’ve noticed and scars or anything down there but it’s usually dark when you’re together…

“They had to replace my dick with a robocock.”

You gape at him for a moment and then it dawns on you. He’s joking.

“Huh.” You huff out, deciding to playing along. “You know with a robocock you’d think the sex would be better.”

He squints his eyes at you, a light playful smile wraps around smoke. “And yet you keep coming back.”

“I felt bad for your mangled dick.”

At that he lets out a bark of a laugh similar to the one before, and you’re starting to think it’s a really nice sound.

You clear your head with another deep pull from the bottle. Bad.

“I did really get in a bike accident though.” He continues, slipping the bottle from your hand once you’ve finished. “But, like, a regular bike, not a motorcycle.”

“Oh yeah?”

He takes a swig that rivals your own. With a wince he explains, “yeah, tripped up and ended up getting a pretty bad cut here.” He pulls down his collar and exposes a deep long scar across his chest. You guess it’s always been so dark you’ve never noticed, but it’s so big that that surprises you.

Without thinking you reach out and touch it, fingers brushing through the hair on his chest. You’re sufficiently drunk enough that you don’t think about it being weird.

He leans forward and catches your lips. It’s an easy switch, and you both fall back into the standard routine of heavily making out before tearing each other’s clothes off.

He fucks you on the couch. You don’t get to see the end of movie.

When you wake up you are only accompanied by the pain in your head and the knot in your back from spending the night on the messy sofa.

Again, you show yourself out.  
  


* * *

 

You wake up to the smell of smoke. Rolling over you can see Robert standing on his balcony, the sliding door slightly cracked, as he lazily puffs on his cigarette.

It’s still dark but the moon is out, and it must be full or close to being full because it creates a bright enough glow to highlight the man standing outside and trickle inside, covering you with a soft glow as well.

Robert is shirtless, wearing nothing but a loose fitting pair of jeans. He looks nice in the moonlight.

You stare for a moment, just watching the way the muscles in his arm and back shift every time he raises and lowers his hand to take another drag. The light makes his tan skin paler then it is and it almost makes him look otherworldly. You have to pause to catch your breath.

He really is otherworldly to you sometimes...being as mysterious as he is. You two have started speaking a bit more when you see each other but it still is just a means to an end. It always ends the same.

Inhaling deeply you let the smell of smoke fill your nostrils. You like the smell of smoke. You used to be a smoker back in college but it’s been years since your last one. Alex made you quit once you started planning to adopt.

You do miss it though...and Amanda isn’t here to see you being a bad influence, so you slide out of bed, tugging on your pants and shirt (because you aren’t quite as confident as him to walk around shirtless even though no one else is around and he’s already seen you naked a million times) before making your way to the balcony.

“Mind if I bum one?” Your voice seems to startle Robert a bit. He jerks his head to look at you, but recovers quickly, looking forward again to ash his cig over the ledge.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“I do. Well, I used to.” You scramble feeling a little awkward with Robert looking the way he does. You’ve slept with man countless times now and still get taken aback by how good looking he is. “It’s been a while.”

He turns to face you as he offers his pack. You try not to stare at his chest as you take one. Putting it to your lips you hold out your hand for a lighter, but he beats you to it and cups a hand around your face to light it for you. You puff until the cig is burning red and he pulls away. It feels oddly intimate and you can’t believe you're blushing over something so little when you’ve had the mans dick in your mouth.

The nicotine in your lungs burns but it feels welcome after such a long time. You both stand in silence. He is still facing you, leaning an elbow heavily on the balcony wall, his hip jutted out to the side. You try not to look at him but it’s hard. You see him looking at you too. It’s...awkward but it’s nice...just sitting in silence like this.

In the corner of your eye you notice a shimmer and look up to see what looks like a clear crystal ball hanging on a string above the sliding doors.

“What’s that?” You ask, gesturing with cig in hand.

Robert shifts so his back is facing the ledge and both his elbows are resting on it. “Witch’s ball.”

“Excuse me?” You choke out. “A what?”

“A witch’s ball.” He repeats. “Ever hear of ‘em?”

You shake your head no.

He takes a long drag of his cig before speaking around a cloud of smoke. “Witches use them to ward off evil spirits and to counteract any negative spells that may have been placed on them.”

“You’ve got a curse on you?” You try to ask playfully, but his face doesn’t shift in amusement or anyway at all, if anything he gets more serious.

He tosses his cigarette over the ledge and into the grass below. “Feels like it.”

“Does it work then?”

His brows furrow a bit and he looks like he’s concentrating on something hard. You wait patiently, not sure if he’s actually going to speak or not. After a moment he stands up straight and moves so he’s right in front of you. He grips the wrist of your hand that is holding the cigarette and brings it up to his mouth so he can steal a drag. You watch in fascination. His lips wrapped around the end, so close to your fingers, it makes your heart race.

Smoke clouds around you both as he pulls away, and he lowers your hand but doesn’t loosen his grip. Walking backwards he leads you back inside.

He fucks you into his mattress for the second time that night. This time when he’s finished you don’t waste anytime leaving, but not before stealing another cigarette from his pack.   
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if you dont get my kurt russell references but also shame on you cause those are some of the greatest movies of all time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drinking, whittling, ass eating...you know the usual.

It’s only 8pm and you’ve just gotten a text from Robert. It really takes you off guard because you don’t think he has ever texted you before 11pm.

_‘hey’_

_‘wyd?’_

_‘jim and kim's tongiht you coming’_

_‘??’_

You’ve never ‘gone out’ with Robert either and the idea of doing so makes you both nervous and excited.

Things have been...different you suppose. You talk more that’s for sure, but for the most part your relationship still consists of just you going over to his house and fucking.

He still will text you late at night, commanding you to come over, and then once you’re in his house he’ll grab you toss you down onto the couch or his bed. There’s no formalities. Only difference now is that sometimes you talk a little more after, he’ll make you a drink and bum you a cig, and he doesn’t always ask you to leave right away. So there’s that. You wouldn’t trick yourself into believing it meant anything though. Because you’re an adult and you know better.

But now, he’s asking you out. This is completely new territory. You respond and tell him ‘ _Sure’_ even though you feel a little unsure in reality. Quickly you get changed into something a little more appropriate for a night at the bar and make your way out, trying to ignore any butterflies in your stomach.

When you get there he is already at the bar and after sitting down it doesn’t take long for him to start pumping you full of shots.

Even though you’ve drank with him before it’s never been like this. Both of you are taking shot after shot and it’s been awhile since you’ve thrown all your inhibitions to the side and truly gotten properly wasted.

You can feel your face is red hot and you know you’re slurring your words and talking way too much but it feels good. It’s been a long time since you did something fun like this and you swat at Robert’s arm as he turns in his stool to regard you. He hardly seems affected by the alcohol at all even though you are sure he has had the same number of drinks as you.

You trade conspiracy theories after he tries to convince you the bartender is an imposter, and that he’s sure he got abducted by aliens because the mole on his right cheek used to be on his left, and you attempt to one up him by telling him about the time you’re positive you spotted the Jersey Devil many years ago.

“I got a fucking story for you, man.” You stumble over your words, drunk and giddy. “A real story.”

“Oh yeah?” He giggles at you a bit, and maybe he is feeling the alcohol more than you thought cause you’ve never heard him fucking giggle and it is cute as shit but you don’t let yourself get distracted.

“Yeah, listen.” You take another shot. You tell him about your car breaking down, about it being late and dark on the swampy backroads of Jersey, about Alex making you get out of the car to walk and find help, and about running into _something_ that damn near gave you a heart attack.

The whole time he listens, resting his head in his palm, intently with drunken content half closed eyes, a small smile on his face.

“Now, it’s pitch black, absolutely no one is on the road but me and there's woods on either side of me and all the sudden I hear a noise.” You pause for dramatic effect. He raises a lazy eyebrow at you, looking amused. “I can’t even begin to describe this noise...it was like a scream and growl combined, like it sounded like something from an animal but at the same time it sounded so human.”

He drops his hand from resting under his chin and picks up his glass, taking a sip and peering at you over the rim. “So what’d you do?”

“I ran!” You practically shout, not being able to control your voice, and look at him like he’s a nut like, _duh what else would I have done?_

“So you didn’t see anything? Gotta tell ya I’m pretty disappointed.”

You stare at him with comically large eyes. “I wasn’t gonna stick around! It could have been the Jersey Devil! What would you have done?”

“Tried to get some proof. Evidence. If it really was what you say it was wouldn’t you want to prove it.” He downs the rest of his drink. “You coulda fought him and had a nice trophy to hang over your fireplace.”

“I don’t have a fireplace.” You mumble, spinning your empty glass in your hand. “Plus I don’t think I’m equipped to hunt down the Jersey Devil.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that I guess.” He waves the possible alien bartender, or just Neil, over for another round.

You roll your eyes. “Well anyway, Alex didn’t believe me and got real pissed and we ended up having to call a tow truck.”

“Your daughter?” He asks not looking away from the next round of drinks placed in front of them.

“Huh? Oh no.” You didn’t even realize you mentioned him by name. “My hus- my late husband. We were visiting his family, actually it was my first time meeting them and it didn’t leave a great impression.”

He takes his shot and then clears his throat while adjusting in his seat. You can feel the atmosphere change as he turns to look at you.

“What happened to your husband?”

You’re not sure why he would ask and why you're even thinking of answering but you do.

“Car accident.” You answer, turning to stare forward at your drink. “Actually it’s funny...I was the one who was a bad driver, which, you know, explains the story I guess, and he always said I needed to be more careful but…"

You can’t finish your thought and Robert doesn’t push it. You feel like he might be about to say something when you end up getting interrupted anyway.

“Hey fellas.” Mary pops up next to Robert. She looks to him. “You’re out early.”

“Yeah well, was aiming to get some sunlight today. Still missed it.”

“You didn’t miss anything great.” Neil hands her a glass. “It’s bright, it’s hot, same old bull.”

“Hi Mary.” You give her an awkward little wave, trying your best to be friendly even though you don’t know her very well and to be honest are a little intimidated by her.

Her eyes barely glimpse in your direction before moving back to Robert. “So, this what you got your claws sunk into nowadays?”

Robert stares straight ahead and speaks into his glass before taking a swig. “Something like that.”

She smirks at that and places a light on the back of his neck. Her long nails graze the hair sitting there. It’s an oddly intimate gesture that kind of takes you by surprise. “How deep in are they?”

He looks at her then. “You know me better than that, Mary.”

“I guess I do.” She laughs, moving her hand to his shoulder and giving him a light tap before walking away. She offers you a sly glance on her way past you as she goes across the room to slip into a booth with a stranger.

You watch her as she does, and once she's settled you turn back to Robert, intending to ask him what just happened.

He doesn’t give you a chance to though because in a second he’s downing the rest of his drink and standing up in one quick motion.

“Let’s go.” He says, and you get up and follow without question.

Outside, he leads you to his truck.

“Robert.” You pause once you realize he’s planning on driving. Both of you have been drinking so you know it’s a bad idea.

“It’s fine.” He says without you having to ask.

You stand dumbly at the passenger door as he hops in himself. You know for a fact that you are way to drunk to function properly but...Robert seems fine for the most part. You just know you’ve seen him take as many shots as you and you don’t get how he could be walking and talking normally but maybe you’re more of a light weight then you thought.

He drives for a while, and the combination of you being drunk and the motion of the truck starts to put you asleep a bit. You nod off not paying attention to how long or how far you’ve gone.

When the car jerks to a stop you open your eyes and drag a hand over your face, feeling a little more sober.

“Fuck, where are we?”

Robert is already getting out the truck and you slowly follow behind him, struggling to find your feet.

It takes you a moment to register the beautiful scene before you.

Wherever you’re at is overlooking the entire city, and seeing all the lights from the civilization below during the quiet summer night is breathtaking.

Robert walks ahead of you and leans against the guardrail. He takes his cigarette pack out his pocket and lights one.

“Wow, this is beautiful.” You tell him once you’ve caught up and are standing beside him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you for a moment and just continues to smoke quietly. Eventually the holds the butt out to you and you grab it, taking a drag yourself.

“Yeah, this is where I come to masturbate.”

You choke on smoke.

“Just kidding.” He smiles as he takes his cigarette back from you. “I come here to think.”

“You’re funny.” You deadpan.

With one last drag he flicks the butt into the abyss below, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small pocket knife.

You barely have time to even think if you should fear for your life or not before he also pulls out a tiny piece of wood. It looks a little misshapen, and without a word he takes the knife to it and begins to shave away, changing it’s shape even more.

“You...whittle?” You ask carefully.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look away from his project. You can’t make out what it is from the angle you’re standing at, but he is using careful delicate strokes that you can tell came with lots of practice. “You ever tried it before?”

“Can’t say I have.” You say with a light laugh, finding it funny because _who the fuck whittles?_

He turns his body to face you and hands over his project. “Here.”

You take it from him, trying to be gentle and not fumble with the knife. Looking down at it it kind of looks like a dog-like shape but it’s just missing the smaller details.

“I don’t want to ruin it.” You mumble, feeling a little dumb.

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bringing the blade to the surface of the wood you stop, leaving it resting there but not going any further. You giggle a bit at the absurdness of the situation. _Like he really wants me to fucking whittle right now??_ “I think I might be too drunk to be handling a knife.”

“Nah, it’s easy.” He shifts his body so he’s standing behind you, and then he wraps his arms around you, his front pressed against your back, and takes your hands in his. They’re bigger and more rough and calloused than yours are. You notice many little scars, some straight nicks from that of a possible knife and others round like possible cigarette burns. They’re a nice set of hands, and they look nice over yours. Slowly, he guides you into moving the knife along surface of the wood, following the grain in a steady smooth motion. You don’t think he has ever been this gentle with you before. It makes your breath catch in your throat and your heart race. You have a brief moment of panic wondering if he can feel it through your back, your heart is beating that hard.

You clear your throat, aiming to distract yourself you try to strike up a convo. “So...why whittling?”

“Why paint? Why draw? Why make any art?” He answers, his breath when he speaks brushes across your ear and it makes you shiver. His voice is low in his concentration.

You suppose that’s as good a answer as any. “Just seems a little...different is all.” You try to clarify.

“Whittling is an art form that takes just as much skill as any other type of art. Why it’s looked down on makes no sense to me. The knife, a weapon, dangerous and deadly, turning something so simple as a piece of wood into something completely different, something intricate or beautiful, something it couldn’t be without shaving away it’s flaws…”

His breath is still tickling against your ear and as his deep voice, intense and gruff caught up in his thoughts, flows over you your whole body covers with goosebumps. Something about the tone of his voice and the way he is being so gentle with you, your hands in his, his body flush against your back, his scent filling your lungs, you are overwhelmed. Suddenly you are alight with fire, and you want him so badly. It aches in your chest, the more you find out about this mysterious man the more you are realizing you are actually smitten with him. It is so so so bad. You know it is a mistake to get caught up in any type of feelings...but you’re still drunk so maybe you can just blame that.

“That’s...actually really interesting.” You say so he knows you’re still listening. You are thoroughly distracted though and can’t help but push your body back against his, trying to entice him a bit.

You aren’t being subtle and he notices. He makes a tiny growl-like noise in your ear and pushes forward, pressing his front tight against your back.

You are completely against the guardrail now, resting your elbows and most of your weight on it, keeping your backside out so to lightly grind against him.

His hands move from yours and travel up your arms leaving more shivers and goosebumps in their wake. He stops at your shoulders and then drops them down your back before resting them on your hips. Unashamed, you grind them a little more forcefully with his hands aiding their movement.

“Fuck.” One hand finds it’s way up your shirt and he cups your chest, making you bite your lip when he grazes over a nipple, and his other hand wraps around your waist as he thrusts forward to meet your hips. You can feel he is just as excited as you are now.

“Robert.” You gasp out. You can’t believe you are acting like a couple of teenagers in a corny movie, meeting up at a make-out spot outside high above the town and dry humping with no shame whatsoever. You fumble with the objects in your hands and shift them over so you’re just clasping them in one, and then with your newly freed hand you reach behind you and pull at Robert’s hair, craning your head back against his shoulder as you do. He groans again in response and starts biting and kissing at your now exposed neck.

“We should go.” You manage to get out. “Someone could see us…”

“No one comes out here except for me.” He mumbles against your throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the vibrations.

Both of his hands settle at your pants and quickly he makes do with unbuttoning them and opening the fly. Your breath comes out in quick pants in anticipation. He doesn’t touch your front and instead slips one hand in the back of your now loosened pants and gropes at your ass.

Biting at your ear he hisses, “Gonna eat you out.”

You gasp as he quickly and suddenly drops to his knees behind you, the coldness from his body heat leaving you and from him tugging your pants down to your thighs, exposing your bare bottom, sends a shock through you.

“Holy shit.” Your free hand flies to you mouth as a way to muffle your moans when you feel him spread your cheeks. You can not believe this is happening. You are about to have your ass eaten out outside in the wilderness with a fucking knife in your hand.

Robert waste no time and dives right in. Drags his wet hot tongue flat and wide against you. Alternates with pressing in and leaving broad strokes across the muscle. You can’t help but push back to meet his mouth, encouraging him to go deeper, fuck you with his tongue, get you wet and open for him.

He slips a finger inside you and licks you out as he fucks it into you. You’re an absolute mess, completely forgetting where you are and the fact that you are fucking outside and in the open, high on the thrill of the exposure and alcohol still running fast through your bloodstream, as his finger curls inside you alongside his tongue. Your gasps and moans spill into the wilderness as you drop your hand from your mouth and start stroking yourself, unable to think of anything else than getting your release.

You cum with his mouth still on you, his finger deep in your ass as he licks at your rim. Your body shakes and quivers as you come down, the alcohol still in your system from earlier leaving you feeling drained and exhausted.

After a moment he stands, and you turn to face him, still trying to catch your breath. He doesn’t let you, and kisses you right on the mouth. You taste yourself and feel dirty, but you love it. You kiss him back with twice as much fierceness and he groans into your mouth.

You reach for his crotch, ready to repay the favor, when he pulls away.

“Let’s go.” He says, and you’re left feeling a little lost as he walks away from you and gets back into his truck.

You follow, assuming he is going to take you back to his place so you can fuck properly, but when you arrive back in the cul-de-sac he stops in front of your house.

You stare out the window dumbly before turning to him. He’s looking straight ahead.

“What’s up?” You asks, suddenly nervous.

“I should call it a night.” He answers, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, um.” You’re so confused. You’re still keyed up from earlier and you thought he was into it as much as you were. You don’t understand why he would want to stop so abruptly. You try to hide your uneasiness as you attempt to repair the situation, failing at a sexy voice. “You don’t want me too…”

“I’m tired.” He doesn’t even let you finish.

“Ok.” Your face is red hot with embarrassment. “I’ll, um, see you around?”

He doesn’t say anything and you get out the truck, walking back to your home feeling nothing but shame. The knife and little wooden dog are still clasped tight in your hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting real quick before heading out to work...next chapter the real story starts lmao.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mistakes happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please see end of chapter for slight spoilery warnings.

Robert doesn’t contact you for three weeks. You try to tell yourself that it doesn’t bother you, but it _does._ You’re not even sure why. It just does.

You have gotten so used to the routine that when he doesn’t text you it feels odd. But you know it shouldn’t. You try not to think about it too much. Who cares if he doesn’t text you for a while? It’s not like you’re dating.

Briefly, you have a fear that maybe he has moved on. But then you have to stop yourself, because _yeah, so what?_ He is allowed to move on. You’re _not_ together so you would have no right to be upset at him for finding someone else. You said you didn’t want a relationship...and you don’t...you just...you’re not even sure anymore.

It just makes you mad, because here you are. Alone and miserable. And you don’t know where he is or what he’s doing and it drives you a little crazy. Mostly because it’s forcing you to admit that, _ok yes maybe you got used to more than just the routine._

You’re not even sure when the change happened but against your will you became accustomed to his presence. You got used to his voice, his touch, his smell…His breath on your neck. His rough and calloused hands gripping your skin. His voice, low and ragged, whispering filthy things in your ear as he rocked waves of pleasure into your body...

You got used to his stupid stories he would tell you while he puffed on a cigarette after sex. The sleek look in his eyes as he would watch you, waiting for your reaction. The small smile that would grace his face whenever you joked right back.

You miss it. You tell yourself that you don’t miss _him_ and that you just miss _it._ It being the routine, the touch, the comfort...not _him._ You aren’t that pathetic.

You keep yourself busy with work, and you talk to Amanda when she has free time (she sends you pictures of her school projects and they are so _good_ and you are so _proud_ )...but mostly you spend your time doing nothing. Nothing interests you and you just become a slug, lying around the house watching TV and playing with your phone. Every time you hold it in your hand you try not to think about what would happen if it buzzed with Robert’s name across the screen. You try not to anticipate it and get your hopes up...but you do anyway. Still, you can’t put the damn thing down.

Other than the first time, Robert has always been the one to reach out to you, so the idea of texting him first is something that actually makes you nervous. Something about it just feels weird. He always texted you whenever he wanted to see you, and of course you would come running every time, excited and eager for the attention and touch you desperately craved. It has never been the other way around, and you feel like making that step to reach out would be...bad...

You will not text him first. You will not admit that you need him. You will not acknowledge that you have actually grown attached to the man, and you most definitely will not let him know that.

But...as the days continue to go by without hearing a word from him, you eventually talk yourself into sending him a text, because you are worried about him. That’s all. You’re allowed to admit you are at least friends right? That’s not weird. Friends reaching out to their friends. Right? That’s a normal and not clingy thing to do, right?

You write one out like a million times before finally hitting send.

_‘Hey! Been a while...we should get drinks and catch up sometime.’_

After it’s sent you feel mortified because, god how desperate could you be?

And Robert must think so too because he doesn’t respond at all.

It hurts.

* * *

 

A full month passes before you see you him again.

It’s late and you’re already in bed, finally getting used to the idea that maybe he has just moved on, and getting back to forcing yourself into regular sleeping schedules, when there's loud repetitive banging on your door.

You don’t even have time to think about how odd it is before your dad instincts kick in and you’re groggily stumbling to the door thinking, _what’s wrong? Who got hurt? Who needs help?_

What you’re not expecting is for Robert to be standing there, leaning heavily on the door frame, a sly smirk on his lips.

“Hey..” He says, and you stare at him dumbfounded for a moment.

“Robert?” You kind of feel like maybe this is a dream. It feels like it’s been forever since you saw him, even when in reality it hasn’t been long at all. You’ve over agonized over this man so much, over thought every past encounter and conversation, wondering where you messed up, and right when your brain finally starts to work properly and gives the fuck up...here he is.

You don’t know if you should laugh or scream.

“What are you doing here?” You ask after blinking a few times and making sure that, yup, he’s still standing there, you aren’t imagining this. Same leather jacket, same unkempt hair and beard, same dark circles, same low hanging ripped jeans, same red shirt unbuttoned just enough to drive a man crazy...you’re mad that he looks so good _still._

He pushes himself off the door frame and takes a step forward, crowding into your space. His face hovering right in front of yours.

And it isn’t until his breath is hitting your face that you realize, _he’s fucking drunk_ because he _reeks._ His eyes have trouble focusing on yours, and they fall closed for a blink that lasts a little bit too long, and when he opens them again they cross before meeting yours, and he offers you a lopsided grin.

“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

Still in somewhat of a daze, you step aside and let him brush past you, not sure what else to do.

“Your kid home?”

You shut the door and turn to look at him, bewildered. “No.”

You notice he stops and takes a look around the room, and realize even after spending the last couple months with him that this is the first time he’s been in your house.

“Good.” He finally says once his gaze lands back on you, and he pushes you up against the door, sloppily kissing you on the mouth.

It’s worse than you thought, the intense smell of booze forcing you to turn your face away from him. You plant your hands on his chest, ready to push him away.

“Robert...”

“What?” He mumbles, not deterred by your mouth being out of reach but instead kissing up your jaw and cheek. His one arm is leaning on the door over your head, holding most of his weight.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah. I am.” He laughs against your ear, not hearing or understanding the concern in your voice. His breath sends a chill through you, your body reacting against your will. You feel a little sick.

You push him away.

He stumbles back, and struggles to regain his balance, swaying briefly. He drags a hand over his face, groaning. Suddenly, he looks oddly small, timid, for a moment. It looks weird on him.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re confused about why he would show up here like this. You wanted him to come back to you but this feels wrong. “It’s been like a month since I heard from you.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He says, short and curt. He won't look at you. “Got caught up with some things.”

You’re still up against the door, afraid to move. “Is everything ok?”

“Everything is fine.” He slurs, his breath hitching in his throat with a hiccup, finally looking at you again with a smile on his face that just looks plain off. He gestures with his arms like he’s presenting himself to you, as if to prove his point.

You eye him up and down, not buying it.

He sighs and takes an unsteady step forward, reaching a hand out to you. “‘M sorry - ‘m fine. C’mon.”

You slowly push yourself away from the door and step into his space. He wraps a hand around your waist and cups your face with other. You let him kiss you, but it still doesn’t feel right. His movements are sloppy, with too much saliva and tongue that is uncoordinated and violating. He leans his body into yours, trying to angle the kiss a little better, and ends up losing his balance, stumbling forward and pushing his weight onto you.

You push back to keep him upright, officially annoyed. “Robert...”

“Let me fuck you.” His lips purr against your skin, traveling down your neck again.

“No…” Your voice cracks.

He pulls away, shucking off his jacket before crowding against you again. “No? You wanna fuck me?”

Just the question alone is enough to put goosebumps all over your body, and before you can say anything his lips are back on yours. You let him assault your mouth as you try to register what’s happening.

“Want me to ride you?” He breathes the words into your mouth, like he wants you to taste them on his tongue. It burns against your own. “C’mon. Fuck me.”

Everything is so _hot._ Your face is hot, your body is hot, everything is on fire. You can’t tell if it’s from arousal or shame, because, _god,_ Robert asking you to fuck him is definitely something you want, and badly, but...not like this. You are overwhelmed with multiple sensations, unsure how to respond, excited by his words and touch, but uneasy about the situation. He’s definitely more drunk than usual.

He starts walking backwards, lips still attached to yours, and takes a few awkward steps before pulling away so he can turn around. He staggers further into your house, down the hall, occasionally reaching a hand out to the wall to steady himself.

“Which room is yours?” He asks, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the floor to join his jacket.

“Left.” You answer dumbly, watching him as he strips his clothes off and leaves them in a trail behind him.

He flops down onto your bed now in just his boxer briefs. You stand in your doorway, taking in the sight. He looks so good laying on your bed like that...he’s got one arm resting behind his head and the other is trailing down his chest, and you can’t help but follow its path as he brings it lower, playing in the patch of hair below his navel.

A breathy laugh brings you back to reality and your eyes snap up to meet his. He’s looking at you with eyes that tell you he’s aware of the effect he’s having on you, and he bites at his lip.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” His hand goes lower as he teases you. “Not up for the challenge?”

You totally are. You really really are, but you know it’s not right.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Are you sure?”

He rolls his eyes. “’m here ain’t I?”

“Yeah but,” you let out a nervous laugh. “You’re drunk.”

“Never stopped you before.” And the way he says it makes you sick to your stomach. Resentful. His playful tone slipping.

Was this always what it was like?

“No.” You say more to yourself, as a way of delusional reassurance. You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to him. “Robert, you ignored me for a whole month and then you show up drunk to my house and expect me to fuck you?”

You can’t keep your voice from shaking. You’re starting to realize that you are actually _angry._ Angry at this man for making you want him, for making a fucking joke out of you, for using you. It’s his fault. Not yours.

“Yeah, so what?” Robert spits, sitting upright on the bed, throwing his legs over the side. “We had an agreement.”

“I didn’t agree to getting fucking ignored and taken advantage of.” You shoot back.

He lets out an ugly bark of a laugh at that. “Taken advantage of? You? This is a two way street, man. Don’t act like you weren’t just using me for sex too.”

“I…” You bite your tongue because you know it’s true but...you do care about him now. Or at least, you think you could. You want to. You want to try. You wish you could just tell him that. “It doesn’t matter. I still get worried, I still care-”

“No you fucking don’t.” It stings the way he bites it out. He stares straight ahead and you watch the muscles in his jaw clench.

“I do care about you.”

“No.” He repeats, quick and sharp like a knife. He turns to meet your gaze now and his eyes cut just as deep. “You don’t.”

He stands up abruptly, cutting you off anything else you could think to say, and pushes past you, picking up his clothes as he goes.

Meekly you follow him out into the hall and watch as he fumbles to put his jeans back on. “Robert...”

“You don’t even know me.”

And you can’t help but snort at that. “I think I do.”

He snaps around so fast it startles you. You almost collide into his chest and he looms over you, a dark glint in his eyes that stops you dead in your tracks. “Just cause we fucked a couple times doesn’t mean you fucking know me.”

You stay still rooted in your spot and continue to watch him put the rest of his clothes on. He’s right, of course, and you can’t believe you allowed yourself to act like such a fool.

“What do you think this is, huh?” You can’t tell if it’s because he’s still drunk or what but he keeps talking. “Stop acting like you give a shit when we both know you don’t.”

It’s then that you realize where you fucked up. When he took you to the bar and paid for all your drinks and listened to you ramble all night. When he took you to his ‘secret spot’ where he likes to think and where it overlooks the city and the lights from the buildings sparkle in a way that could only be described as _romantic._ It was a _date._

And you tried to fuck him.

He let you in, and you pushed him for sex. You used him when all he wanted to do was spend a regular night out with you. You're no better than him using you as a bootycall.

“Robert I’m sorry-”

“Stop.” He says. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”

You can’t believe you fucked up so badly. “Please let me-”

You want to explain yourself but he cuts you off. “No. I used you and you used me. All we did was fuck and that’s it. Ain’t no different than any other warm body I’ve fucked in this town.”

You stare blankly at him. You know you agreed not to be serious but...was he really fucking a ton of other people at the same time? The thought sends a pain through your chest. Were you really that fucking blind?

He must read it on your face, because then he’s crowding against you sporting a wicked grin.

“What? You think you were the only one? You really think this was _special?_ Tell that to the coffee shop owner, or the landscaper. And while you’re at it you can head on over to the church and tell it to the fucking pastor.”

It takes you a moment to catch up to what he’s saying. The pastor? Wait.

“Joseph? Like, Mary’s Joseph?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, is that what you wanna hear? Since you fucking _care_ so much?” He laughs but it sounds twisted. “I fucked my best friend’s pastor husband. But let me tell you, man, he don’t fuck like a pastor. Dicked me down so good Satan himself would blush. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

You feel a little lightheaded listening to him. Appalled that someone could betray their friend and then _laugh_ about it. Maybe you were completely delusional to think he felt anything for you at all.

“It meant nothing.” He continues, his voice suddenly flat and void of emotion. “Just like this,” he gestures between you, “means nothing.”

“This was mistake.” You choke out over the baseball sized lump in your throat. You can't keep pretending. You can't pretend his late night calls don't mean the world to you. You can't pretend his touch doesn't build a fire in your stomach. You can't pretend his laugh doesn't make your heart swell with happiness. You can't let yourself fall for a man who obviously does not want you. "I can't do this anymore."

“Yeah.” He mumbles, reaching for the door. “That sounds about right.”

You watch his back as he goes, and you don’t even flinch when he slams the door so hard it shakes the very foundation of your home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC doesn't know how to say 'no' to Robert even though he is uncomfortable, and let's Robert kiss him even though he doesn't want to. It doesn't go past kissing, though.
> 
> Also, Robert and Joseph's past affair is mentioned but I assure you he will not be featured in this fic at all, and it will not be discussed in detail.
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to get this one out. I deleted it and re-wrote it a bunch of times. I still feel like it's not where I want it to be but I hope you still enjoy anyway. Next chapter is halfway done already and should be up sooner. Thanks again for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey heads up I changed some dialogue at the very end of the last chapter. It's not a lot but it does change the story a tiny bit so please go back and reread the last couple of lines for me. Thank you and sorry for being an indecisive pain lmao

You don’t feel sad. You don’t even feel mad anymore. 

Mostly, you feel stupid. Embarrassed. 

You keep going back over your feelings in your head, not even understanding them yourself. Did you truly feel anything for the man or did you trick yourself into thinking you did? Did you mistake physical contact for real emotional feelings? Did you really feel those sparks of connection or did you make them up?

Robert’s image is imprinted in your brain and you yearn for it, but at the same time you know it’s all an illusion and you have to keep reminding yourself...

Robert doesn’t care about you. He never did. He’s incapable of caring. He said it himself and you allowed yourself to get tricked by a couple of meaningless kisses and touches.

You tricked yourself, too, thinking that you would be capable of a relationship like this without getting attached. It’s your first relationship since Alex, and you never thought you’d be able to feel anything after him but...here you are.

You’re not sure if that makes it harder or not.

Really, it feels like a cruel fucking joke. You really thought you had convinced yourself that you didn’t need anybody, that you had learned to be on your own and accepted that there would never be anyone else, that all you needed was some meaningless fuck to scratch one little annoying itch...but the touch of his fingers burned into your memory, like a brand you now can’t forget. It hurts but you have to accept that while it was fun while it lasted it is now over, and you have to let go. It just feels so wild that everything happened so quickly...that you fell into his bed so fast and then even faster fell head over heels like the damn idiot that you are, and fastest yet you are forced to forget about him. 

Weeks pass with no contact from Robert and you officially feel numb. Empty.

* * *

 

Once again you have another sleepless night disrupted by a loud knocking on your door.

When you finally trudge to the door, you almost get knocked over when something small and furry comes barreling in past your feet.

“B-Besty?” You sputter, adjusting your footing as the dog runs right past you into your house, making herself right at home.

“What did you do?”

When you look up you're even more surprised to see Mary standing there, stone faced as usual with her arms folded across her chest.

“Huh? What’s Betsy doing here-” 

She stops your thought short, dropping her arms and taking a step forward, with a gaze that could kill. “What did you do to Robert?”

You can’t help but practically scoff in her face. “Excuse me?” Her of all people coming to bitch at you about this. What’s it to her anyway?

“Robert,” she repeats, as if it changes anything. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. He won't answer my calls or texts...His trucks just been sitting in his driveway but he’s nowhere to be found. And when I finally go over there to make sure the bastard is at least still alive I find Betsy sitting outside like she hasn’t been let in in days.”

She takes another step forward, and she’s so close you can see tiny freckles on her face that you’ve never noticed before. “So what the fuck did you do to get him so twisted he neglects his own damn dog? I oughta kill both of you for that shit.”

You’re a little taken aback. Mary has always been...rough...but you’ve never heard her speak quite like this and it is...terrifying to say the least.

Trying to get some distance you take a look back into your home to find Betsy making herself comfortable on your couch. You groan inwardly a little seeing that she is filthy and it’s gonna be a bitch to get those pawprint stains out of the cushions. But at the same time, it just confirms what Mary is telling you, that Robert has been neglecting her, but honestly it just makes you mad.

“Listen, I don’t know what is going on with Robert. I haven’t spoken to him in a while either.” You say, and your stomach churns as you do.

“Bullshit,” she pushes forward again. “You did something and you and I both know it. So you know what? You can look after the mutt, and you can take her and your ass over to Robert and fix this mess you started, cause I work too damn hard to make sure that man stays alive and I can’t deal with you undoing all my handy work.”

The way she spits it in your face makes you recoil and her words just anger you more. “Your handy work? What the fuck does that even mean? Why do you even care? How can you even like him after he-”

You stop yourself before you can say it, but it’s too late. She knows. She heard you without you even having to say it.

“What?” She hisses. “After he what?”

Subconsciously you cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head slightly as you do. “No, I - I didn’t mean-”

“Say it.” She pushes. “Go ahead,” and she laughs now, a crazy forced out huff of breath. “After he what? Fucked my husband? Is that what you wanted to say? That Robert fucked my husband and I’m the joke of a woman who stays with him? Let’s him fuck off behind my back with all his gay lovers while I just sit and watch like the pathetic hag I am?”

You keep shaking your head but you can’t make yourself speak. Like medusa she has you literally frozen in your spot by her stare alone.

After a moment she rolls her eyes, sighing and letting her body relax. With a flick of her wrist she pushes you aside and steps into your house.

“Your kids not home is she?”

“No.” You mutter, taking a moment to be surprised at how similar she and Robert are, and shut the door while Mary makes a beeline straight for the kitchen.

“You got any wine?” She asks, already opening every cabinet in the place.

You point meekly at the correct one, under the island counter.

She pops up with bottle in hand, looking at you expectantly. You stare back, still at a loss.

“Well? You gonna be a gentleman and open this for me or what?”

“Oh, uh, yes...sorry.” You quickly clamor to find the bottle opener and pop the cork, then pour her a glass and slide it over the counter top to her.

She takes a sip...well a gulp, a big one, downs half the glass in one go. When she puts it down she pushes it back towards you, silently asking you to top it off.

You do so.

“So? Come on sailor, gonna make a lady drink all by her lonesome?” Her tone reminds you of when you first met her, the way her eyes cut sharp through the air and lock with yours feels familiar, but it’s different than how it was before...only now because you know the truth behind it.

Without a word you get your own glass and pour yourself some wine, and following her lead you chug it as much as you can stomach. Wine isn’t really the best thing to chug, but right now you’d happily chug bleach so what’s the difference, truly.

She regards you with a small smile. “Thatta boy.”

Minutes pass filled with silence. You think about Robert and how he hated small talk...how he thought it was pointless to fill the air with meaningless drivel...Mary must think so too, because after a moment she gets right to the point.

“Me and Robert weren’t always friends you know.” Her eyes lock onto her wine glass, her delicate fingers twirl the stem and she watches the liquid spiral. “Actually, he and my husband having an affair is what brought us together.”

She laughs then, and looks up to meet your eyes. You nervously smile in response, unsure what is actually appropriate to do.

“He...we knew each other. Well, just as well as you know any neighbor I guess. I knew which house he lived in but I didn’t know anything else. We both seemed to hit the bars on the same nights but we never really spoke.

The first time he approached me he yelled at me.” She laughs again, cupping a hand under her chin and smiling at her wine glass like it’s an old friend.

“I was talking to some guy and he came over to me, accusing me of being an ungrateful bitch. Cheating on my husband, and whatnot.”

Her fingers move to the top of the glass and she dances the tips over the rim absentmindedly. She’s still smiling but as she watches her fingers you can see her eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“I’m not an idiot you know?” She looks at you then and the wetness in her eyes is really threatening to fall. “I knew my husband wasn’t faithful...I knew everything about him was a sham. The church youth group, the fucking yacht where he took his boytoys to fuck...I knew. I still know…nothing has changed even now.

I could put two and two together you know? It was always the same fucking story… ‘Mary, I’ll do better.’ ‘Mary, never again.’ ‘Mary, it was meaningless.’ He used me as a way to make sure he never had to commit to any of these men all while letting me waste away in a sham of a marriage looking like a damn fool...When Robert came over to me in that bar...I knew. My husband broke his heart...just like how he broke mine.”

You’re stunned by what she is revealing to you. “Mary, I-”

“And I never could do it either,” she keeps talking, tears now freely falling from her eyes while she manages to keep an even tone. “I tried, I really did. I wanted to cheat on him so bad. I wanted him to know what it fucking felt like. I wanted him to feel as worthless and pathetic as I do...but...I couldn’t…I just pretend.” And she lets out a laugh which sounds so manic and out of place it makes you jump a little. “Just fucking pretend like the rest of my fucking life. What a fucking laugh that is huh? It’s funny isn’t it?”

Her laugh echos in your quiet house. You hear the footfalls of Betsy as she steps into the kitchen to hear what the commotion is all about.

“Why,” you clear your throat. “Why do you stay with him?”

“I don’t even know.” She groans into her wineglass as she gulps the rest of it down. “For the kids? Security maybe? I don’t know...I just...can’t do anything else.”

“I-I’m so sorry.” You wish you had something more to say. It makes her rolls her eyes and you don’t blame her.

“Don’t be.” Straightening her back she grabs at the wine bottle. “Just...Robert.” She pauses and takes a moment to regain her thoughts. “I could never be mad at Robert knowing what I know about my husband. I knew he was manipulated...the same way he manipulated me and everyone else. I...I’m not strong enough to leave him. Not yet at least. And Robert was the only person I could talk to. He was the only person who came to me and apologized...tried to help me even though it was already too late...without him...I don’t know where I’d be. I don’t think there would be any happiness left in my life at all.”

When she meets your eyes next you feel like you’re looking at an entirely different person...a different Mary that is vulnerable and scared and sad that you have never seen before...she looks like Robert and like you and your heart breaks for her. “I can’t watch him suffer any longer...and I can’t help him the way I know you can. When I saw you two at Jim and Kim’s that night I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so...content. Happy even. He deserves that. I know he could be better with you. Don’t take that away from him.”

“Robert doesn’t want to see me anymore.” You say flatly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with her and forcing yourself to keep your voice steady as to not cry.

“Well, what about you?” She jabs. “Do you want to see him again?”

You stare at the countertop and bite your lip. You’re surprised by all of this. The way Robert spoke to you last you really felt like he didn’t care about you at all...why would he lie? Would you want to risk seeing him again and getting rejected for the second time?

“Robert is a big fat baby.” She says with an amused chuckle, seemingly reading your thoughts. It sounds odd on her lips with the contrast of her tear stained face. “He acts like he doesn’t care about shit but really it’s an act. He’s a sap. Go to him. He won’t go to you no matter how much he wants it, and you want it, so you gotta make it happen.”

And with that she plucks the wine bottle off the table and heads to the door.

“Wait.” You stop her. She turns to look at you with her hand still on the doorknob.

“Mary,” you’re not really sure what you want to say. You want to tell her that she deserves happiness too. That she doesn’t need to settle for this miserable life. That it’s not fair for her to be so concerned about her friend while not thinking about her own self. But you and Mary aren’t that close, and you choke on your tongue. “If you ever need anything-” 

You trail off but she seems to understand what you mean. She offers you a nod, then looks down at Betsy standing by your feet and throws her a salute before stepping out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole reason I wanted to write this story is cause I wanted to write this part with Mary. Hope you guys liked it and thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while since i wrote anything. sorry for any weirdness. thank you for reading.


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